Her mocking tone brought another rush of irritation, which he forced himself to ignore. Hell, she was allowed to be a bitch today. Getting ditched on her wedding day definitely gave her a free pass.
“Option one,” he announced. “You go to a hotel and prepare yourself for the sympathy parade.”
Unhappiness washed over Claire’s face.
“Option two, you go home and get the confrontation with Chris out of the way.”
Her delicate jaw tensed.
“Option three, you hop on the chopper with me, crash at my place for a day or two, and when you feel up to dealing with all this, you come home.”
Your place?
The little voice gave him pause. Technically he ought to be consulting his roommate before he—
Roommate? the voice interrupted, sarcastic now.
He fought a spark of aggravation. Okay, fine, Aidan Rhodes was much more than a roommate.
As Claire sat there in silence, visibly pondering the choices he’d given her, Dylan fished his cell phone out of his pocket.
He’d planned on shooting a discreet text Aidan’s way to let him know they might have some company, but Claire spoke up before he could.
“No. I don’t run away from my problems,” she said firmly. “Maybe that’s yours and Chris’s MO, but not mine.”
His nostrils flared at the accusation. “I don’t know where you’re getting your intel, honey, but I don’t run from my problems. Never have, never will.”
“Either way, I can’t just leave town. I’ll regroup for a couple of hours at the hotel, and then talk to Chris.”
As if on cue, Dylan’s phone buzzed in his hand.
Chris’s number flashed on the screen.
“Speak of the devil,” he told her.
The wounded look in her big brown eyes triggered the urge to pull her into his arms, but he pushed the crazy idea aside. He didn’t blame her for looking so hurt, though—Chris should be calling his bride right now, not his brother.
“What are you waiting for?” she muttered. “Answer it.”
Dylan raised the phone to his ear, but he didn’t greet his brother with even an ounce of warmth. “What do you want?”
There was a pause. “You’re angry.”
“No fucking kidding.”
“Dylan…look, I know you’re pissed at me and I’m so sorry I ran away like that. I took the coward’s way out and I feel like a total ass, okay?”
“No, not okay. Nothing you did today was okay, Chris.”
A remorseful breath filled the line. “I’m sorry. I really am. And I promise you I’m going to make this right. I’ll make it right with Claire, and with Mom, and the partners, and most of all, you. But first, I need you to do one more thing for me.”
Incredulity lodged in his throat. “Are you serious? After everything that went down today, you have the nerve to ask for another favor?”
Next to him, Claire made a harsh sound of disdain, and a quick glance at the passenger seat revealed she was eyeing him warily. Actually, no, she was eyeing his phone. The way she’d curled her hands into fists and pressed them on her thighs told Dylan she was trying to stop herself from grabbing the cell out of his hand.
And speaking of thighs…he couldn’t help but notice that her dress had ridden up, revealing her smooth, pale skin that he couldn’t seem to quit staring at…
Disgusted with himself, he yanked his gaze off those firm thighs, hoping she hadn’t noticed him checking out her legs.
“I just need you to pass along a message,” Chris pleaded in his ear.
“To who?” Dylan said suspiciously.
“Claire.”
He almost blurted out that Claire was sitting right next to him, but he swallowed the confession. He got the feeling Chris might panic and hang up if he knew she was there.
“What’s the message?” he asked in a curt voice.
“Tell her I’m sorry. I know I owe her an explanation and I promise to give her one. Just…not now. Tell her we’ll talk when I get back.”
Dylan’s spine went rigid. “Get back from where?”
“Aruba. I’m leaving for the airport now.”
For the life of him, Dylan couldn’t formulate a single response. As shock and disgust pounded into him, he was tempted to whip his phone out the window just so he wouldn’t have to hear his brother’s voice anymore.
Chris, however, seemed oblivious to the waves of hostility radiating over the line.
“I know it sounds heartless, but the trip’s already been paid for and it’s nonrefundable. Aruba was first on our itinerary, and I’m definitely heading there, but I don’t know yet if I’ll do London and Paris like we’d planned.” A pause. “Claire’s welcome to use her ticket too, I suppose, but I think that would be awkward for the both of us, so I’d recommend she not do that.”
The rage bubbling in Dylan’s gut was so uncharacteristic it caught him by surprise. He didn’t get this angry. Ever. He was usually calm under pressure, cool, collected, in complete fucking control of himself.
But at this very moment, he wanted to murder his own brother.
Straight-up murder him.
Releasing a slow breath, he shifted his head so he didn’t have to see Claire’s dark expression in his peripheral vision. “You’re unbelievable,” he hissed into the phone. “Right now, in this moment? I can’t believe we’re even related. I’m so fucking ashamed of you.”
“Hey!”
Chris’s outraged gasp only pissed Dylan off even more. “Don’t worry, I’ll pass your message along, big brother,” he snapped. “And now I’m going to hang up before I say something I might regret.”
Proving he didn’t make idle threats, he punched the end button and tossed his phone in the cup holder, where it rattled against Claire’s discarded iPhone.
The anger refused to abate. His vision was a sea of red, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles had turned white, but the alternative was punching the damn dashboard, and he wasn’t in the mood to have an airbag deploy in his face. Jesus fucking Christ. This entire day had been a fucking nightmare, and it just kept getting worse and worse.
“What did he say?”
Claire’s cautious voice broke through the haze of fury. For a second he was tempted to lie, but he couldn’t bring himself to cover for his brother. Chris didn’t deserve any clemency, not after everything he’d done.
“He said he’s sorry and he’ll talk to you when he gets back,” Dylan reported through gritted teeth.
She went quiet. Her confused expression soon gave way to horror as understanding dawned. “He’s going on our honeymoon?”
Dylan nodded.
“He’s going on our fucking honeymoon?”
Her chest heaved from her labored breathing, drawing his gaze to her cleavage. And proving that he had zero decorum, his inner manwhore refused to let him overlook the fact that this woman had great tits. No, remarkable tits.
“Oh my God. Who does that? I can’t believe I was going to marry such an insensitive ass!”
Dylan shifted in discomfort when he noticed the tears filling her eyes. Fortunately, the moisture clinging to her long lashes didn’t spill over. If she started crying, he knew he’d have no choice but to take her in his arms, and he was determined to avoid that. Just because he was helping her out didn’t mean they were best buds or anything.
“Well, on the bright side, your apartment is free,” he said feebly.
She gave a vicious shake of the head. “I can’t go back there. If I see anything that reminds me of Chris right now…”
She didn’t finish that sentence, but Dylan could fill in the blanks. “So what do you want to do?” he asked her.
Two teardrops broke free from those thick eyelashes and streamed down her flawless ivory cheeks. “Number three,” she mumbled. “I choose option three.”
3
A couple hours later, Claire turned to Dylan in confusion as their taxi came to a stop in front of a m
odern high-rise with an endless amount of windows sparkling in the afternoon sunlight.
“Where are we?” she asked suspiciously. “I thought we were going to your place.”
He leaned forward and handed the driver some cash, then reached for the door handle. “This is my place.”
“Since when?” Claire wrinkled her brow. The last time she and Chris came to visit, Dylan had been living in a house in Coronado with his teammate Seth, a scruffy badass SEAL with a chip on his shoulder.
“Since about a month ago,” he answered.
They got out of the cab and Dylan rounded the vehicle to grab their bags from the trunk. It was just past three o’clock, and the sun was so bright Claire squinted to avoid being blinded and wished she hadn’t shoved her sunglasses into her carry-on. She couldn’t believe how warm it was, especially for December. On the plus side, she happened to be wearing a sundress so thin she may as well be naked.
On the minus side, the barely-there dress had resulted in an hour-and-a-half-long helicopter ride in which Dylan’s eyes had been glued to her breasts.
Which was perplexing, because…he was gay, right? She still couldn’t figure it out, but the memory of Dylan’s tongue in another man’s mouth was completely incongruous to the way he’d been ogling her on the chopper.
And speaking of perplexing, what the hell had compelled her to come back to San Diego with this man?
Clearly she’d suffered a mental breakdown after hearing that Chris was leaving town, but by the time common sense decided to make a return, they’d already been landing on the helipad at San Diego’s Coast Guard base.
After the taxi sped off, Dylan lugged their bags toward the glass doors at the building’s entrance. He didn’t turn around to see if she was following, but he did call out a mocking, “You coming?”
She trailed after him, still mystified by their surroundings. How on earth could Dylan afford to live here? The building was way too luxurious for a SEAL’s salary. They stepped into a beautiful lobby with dark oak furniture, cream-colored carpeting, and tasteful artwork on the walls, and were immediately greeted by the uniformed security guard sitting behind a spacious counter.
Dylan smiled and nodded at the bulky African-American man, then introduced Claire as his houseguest. The fact that the guard wrote down her name told Claire that security was taken seriously in this building.
Her flip-flops snapped against the lush carpet as she and Dylan headed toward a corridor to their left. She winced at each snap snap, feeling way too underdressed. It didn’t help that Dylan still wore the crisp black suit he’d donned for the wedding, which made her skimpy dress and plastic shoes look even more out of place.
“This place is so fancy,” she whispered. “How can you afford to live here alone?”
“Always so concerned with finances, aren’t you?”
The contempt in his voice raised her hackles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dylan pressed the elevator button. “Nothing at all,” he said vaguely. “And to answer your question, I don’t live alone.”
Ding. The elevator opened with a chime and he strode into it without elaborating.
Claire hurried in after him. “You’re still living with Seth then?”
“Nope.”
His response was casual, but the shuttered look on his handsome face answered her next question. He lived with the dark-haired man. The man he’d been kissing that night.
Heat flooded her cheeks, and, to her extreme embarrassment, she experienced a spark of arousal. Damn it! She wasn’t allowed to get turned on by it anymore. She’d been trying so hard to stifle that reaction these last couple of months.
But now that the proverbial door had more or less been opened, she found herself walking right through it.
“So. Um.” She swallowed. “Are we ever going to talk about what happened back in September?”
Dylan shrugged. “There’s nothing to talk about. You walked in on a private moment between me and Aidan. No biggie.”
“Aidan? Is that his name?”
“Yep.”
The elevator continued its ascent, the numbers on the electronic panel rapidly flashing before stopping on the number 15.
The doors dinged open.
“Listen,” Dylan said as they stepped into a wide hallway, “I really do appreciate that you didn’t say anything to Chris or my mom about what you saw that night.”
She arched a brow. “And yet you insist the whole thing was no biggie.”
“It’s not. To me, anyway.” His eyes went somber. “But it would be a big deal for them. Chris, especially. My brother is very…conservative.”
“I know. My best friend is a lesbian, and, well, Chris has never been openly negative but I don’t think he likes her very much.”
“Yeah, he’s a bit of a homophobe,” Dylan admitted in a pained voice. “There’s a whole thing behind it, but I don’t want to get into that. Just know I’m grateful that you kept quiet.”
They lingered in the middle of the hall, eyeing each other carefully. Claire realized this was the first time in a year and a half that she and Dylan had had a conversation that lacked any hostile undertones.
Might be pushing her luck, but she figured she should capitalize on the cease-fire. “So you and Aidan…you’re…together?” she asked curiously.
He sighed. “It’s complicated.”
She could only imagine. Dylan didn’t just have his family’s prejudice to worry about—he was also a navy officer, and no matter how progressive the military claimed to be these days, Claire knew his sexual orientation would probably never be fully accepted. And who knew what circumstances the dark-haired stranger—Aidan, she amended—had to contend with.
Sympathy tugged at her heart, an emotion she didn’t normally feel in Dylan’s presence. Usually she couldn’t look past his arrogant, selfish exterior, but she had to admit, he’d been pretty sweet today. Whisking her out of the country club, bringing her home with him so she could lick her wounds in peace. She hadn’t asked him to do any of that, and she still couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t sided with his brother in all this.
“Anyway, my mom and Chris know that Aidan is my roommate, but not that—”
“—you share a room,” she finished wryly.
Dylan shrugged again. “Actually, we don’t.”
She furrowed her brows. “Why not?”
“Like I said, it’s complicated.”
A hundred more questions bit at her tongue, but he didn’t give her the chance to voice them. He was walking off again, leaving her to stare at his retreating back—and his butt. Because really, she couldn’t not stare at his butt, so taut and delicious in those snug trousers. And his body was so damn big he made her feel miniature in comparison. Broad shoulders, arms that rippled with power, long legs, a lean yet muscular torso, and of course, that amazing butt.
No doubt about it, Dylan Wade was sexy. And he banked on that sexiness, using it to get whatever he wanted—well, at least according to Chris.
Then again, Chris’s credibility was on shaky ground considering he was on his way to Aruba to cash in on the honeymoon her parents had paid for.
Choking down the bitterness coating her throat, Claire followed Dylan to a door at the very end of the hall, then waited as he pulled out a set of keys and stuck one in the lock.
A moment later, they walked into the apartment, Claire feeling slightly apprehensive as she examined the surprisingly large front hall. Actually, nothing surprising about it. Of course the apartments in this fancy-pants building would be huge.
Since Dylan kicked off his shoes, she did too, and beautiful dark hardwood spanned beneath her bare feet as they ventured deeper into the apartment. The front hall widened and spilled into an enormous open-concept space with floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a view of the city skyline.
“Wow,” she blurted out. “This place is incredible.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty sweet.” Dylan dropped her suitcase
s and his small black duffel on the floor, then swept an arm out and gave her a quick verbal tour. “Living room, dining room. Kitchen’s over there, and the bedrooms are down that hall.”
Claire’s gaze took everything in—the masculine furnishings in the living room and heavy-duty entertainment system, the sleek electric fireplace, the French doors leading out to a sprawling stone terrace. She shifted her gaze and studied the low wall that separated the living and dining area from a big, modern kitchen with gleaming stainless-steel appliances and a black granite counter.
And just like Dylan’s old place, this one was also neat as a pin, which only supported her belief that military men were the cleanest on the planet.
She opened her mouth to rave about the apartment a bit more, but the sound of footsteps interrupted. Claire turned her head in time to see Dylan’s roommate step out of the corridor.
A pair of unbelievably sexy dimples appeared in his cheeks as he swept his dark eyes over the new arrivals. “Fastest wedding ever, huh?”
Claire was at a loss for words over his sheer hotness, and far too fascinated by the man walking toward them. She’d only caught shadowy glimpses of him back in September, and now she was kind of grateful for that, because if she’d known what this man looked like? He would have haunted her fantasies.
He was as handsome as Dylan, but in a darker, more sensual way. He had olive skin and short dark hair, a pair of intense chocolate-brown eyes, and a bare chest that made her mouth water. Yep, bare. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, so her gaze got to experience every sculpted muscle and the tight ridges of his six-pack. Not to mention the tantalizing glimpses of his hip bones, which were revealed by black sweatpants that rode low and told her he was definitely going commando.
The lust that slammed into her was insane. Absolutely insane. Her nipples went rock-hard and her thighs clenched as X-rated images flashed through her mind. She wanted to put her mouth all over this man. She wanted to lick his collarbone and his pecs and his abs, and then she wanted to sink to her knees, pull out his cock and lick that too.
As their eyes locked, something hot and primal rippled through her. She got the feeling he knew exactly what she’d been envisioning, and the notion made her blush and break the eye contact.
Out of Uniform Box Set: Books 4-6 plus 2 Bonus Novellas Page 31
